


PIPPIN ASKS TOO MANY QUESTIONS

by rubyelf



Category: Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: First Time, Hobbits, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-22
Updated: 2012-03-23
Packaged: 2017-11-02 11:14:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,692
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/368364
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rubyelf/pseuds/rubyelf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pippin has started asking some very odd questions. Merry attempts to answer them. </p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

TITLE: PIPPIN ASKS TOO MANY QUESTIONS (PART 1 of 2)

AUTHOR: [](http://rubyelf.livejournal.com/profile)[**rubyelf**](http://rubyelf.livejournal.com/)  


CHARACTERS: Merry/Pippin

RATING: NC-17 (maybe)

WARNINGS: pre-ruby-verse, hobbit smut

SUMMARY: Pippin has started asking some very odd questions. Merry attempts to answer them. 

DISCLAIMER: Characters do not belong to me. They are just here to play

I know not everybody wants to read hobbit smut but this is some Merry-and-Pippin cuteness about what they were like BEFORE they were the shameless creatures they are in the present rubyverse. If you do like it, please let me know... I like writing about Merry and Pippin but I don't always get much feedback so I don't know if anyone likes reading it. 

  


  


**PIPPINS AKS TOO MANY QUESTIONS (PART 1 of 2)**

 

“Hush!” Merry scolded, as Pippin nearly kicked over an end table in Bilbo’s darkened living room.

“Don’t you hush me, Meriadoc,” the younger hobbit retorted. “You knocked over all the umbrellas, remember?”

“It doesn’t matter, anyway. Bilbo sleeps like a log, and Frodo had quite a bit to drink…”

“So did we,” Pippin said, and giggled.

“You’re too young to be drinking,” Merry said, trying to look serious but not doing a very good job of it. Pippin had only recently gotten to be old enough to be allowed to drink with the adult hobbits… not that he hadn’t been drinking before that, but like all the young hobbits he’d had to sneak it or have it smuggled to him, usually by Merry. Merry felt a bit guilty occasionally, having contributed to those under-age escapades of Pippin’s, but secretly, he always loved it when Pippin had a few drinks, just enough to make his sharp cheekbones flush slightly and to make those green eyes, with lashes as long and dark as a girl’s, turn all starry-bright, and to make him lean all over Merry affectionately and plant kisses on his cheeks, just like he was doing now as Merry slid an arm around his cousin’s slender waist to steady him.

“Stop slobbering on my face,” Merry said, knowing this would only solicit more kisses from Pippin. He wasn’t sure if it had only been in the last year or two that Pippin had begun kissing him so often, or if it had only been in the last year or two that Merry had started to notice.

“It’s your fault,” Pippin said, pressing his face fondly into Merry’s shoulder. “You promised my father you’d watch out for me.”

“I did,” Merry said. “I didn’t let a bit of harm come to you, did I?”

“You let me bang my shin on the table,” Pippin said accusingly.

“Hush, idiot.”

“Don’t call me names,” Pippin sulked, and that sinful little mouth with lips pouting against Merry’s skin was really entirely uncalled for. “Can we go to bed?”

“Why? All drunk and dizzy?”

“No,” Pippin said, pulling back to fix him with an odd glance. “I’m not more than a bit tipsy. I just want to go to bed. It’s been weeks and weeks since we got to stay at Bag-End together.”

By “stay at Bag-End together,” Pippin meant curl up together in the big bed at the end of one of Bag-End’s many halls, the room that had been theirs together during visits since they were very young and the adults had stuck them in there together so they could entertain each other with foolishness during the night rather than disturb the rest of the household. Merry opened the door to the guest room, finding that there were coals smoldering in the hearth, waiting to be relit, and a stack of nice dry wood. He tossed some logs into the fire, listening to them crackle, and then took a match, lit it in the flames, and lit the two lamps by the bed, putting the glass covers over them to protect against drafts even though, as a proper hobbit residence, Bag-End did not have drafts. While he was occupied with this, Pippin had sprawled back on the bed, giggling.

“Shirt off, Pip. It reeks of ale and pipesmoke.”

“So does yours.”

“I’m taking mine off too, you oddity.”

Pippin flailed his arms helplessly. “Can’t, Merry. Need help.”

Merry rolled his eyes and set about unbuttoning Pippin’s shirt and letting him slip out of it while he tugged off his cousin’s breeches, which smelled just as much of the party as his shirt did, and tossed them aside. Pippin, now in his underclothes, watched as Merry tossed his shirt over a chair and stripped to his undershirt and shorts before climbing into the bed. Pippin crawled under the quilt and, as he always did, snuggled against Merry’s side, warm and sleepy. His curls, coppery and always disorderly and spilling around his face unlike Merry’s more tightly-curled golden ones, pressed against Merry’s face.

“Mmm. Love you, Merry.”

“Love you too, Pip. Go to sleep.”

Pippin squirmed and made a small, inquisitive noise, and Merry knew he didn’t have any intention of going to sleep yet. He wanted to ask questions, and when Pippin had questions, they were Questions, and had to be answered or there would be no peace for anybody.

“Heard some of the lads talking tonight,” Pippin said.

“Oh?”

“They were talking about a lass they’d been with.”

Oh, Lord and Lady, Merry thought. Pip hadn’t shown much interest in chasing skirts yet, but he was certainly of an age for it, and there were plenty of lasses more than willing to take the newly adult Took heir off and teach him all about such things.

“What where they saying?”

“One of the lads was saying that this lass had been going around with lots of boys and she was going to get pregnant and wasn’t going to know who the father was.”

Merry sighed; he was quite certain that Pippin at least knew the basic mechanics of how _that_ occurred.

“And one of the other lads said he knew _he_ wouldn’t be the father, because the only put it in… well, you know…”

“In her…”

“Well, you know… in her mouth. And another lad said he only put it in her… you know. Her behind.”

Merry tried not to laugh; he could feel the heat of Pippin’s blush against his neck as his young cousin hid his face.

“Well, some lasses will do that sort of thing, and some won’t,” he said. “I don’t suggest you try that second one till you’ve got used to the basics.”

Pippin pressed against him, fingers toying with Merry’s undershirt. “I wouldn’t think a lass would like that.”

“Some of them do, I suppose,” Merry said, trying to be mature and informative and ignore the effect that talking about putting things into various parts of someone was having on his personal bits. “Some of them just do it because the lads like it. Must not be too bad, though, if the lasses don’t object to it.”

“Have you, Merry?”

“Have I what?”

Pippin nosed the soft skin under his ear, and Merry inwardly cursed Pippin’s complete lack of personal boundaries at inopportune moments when he did not want his cousin noticing he was starting to get hard.

“Done those things with a lass.”

Merry chuckled and ran his fingers through Pippin’s curls, amused at Pippin’s hesitant questioning.

“I have, yes. Most lasses will use their mouth on you, if they like you, although some of them are quite good at it and some of them are rather timid, and you do have to watch for teeth.”

Pippin shivered.

“The other… once, yes, and probably with the same lass you heard the lads talking about tonight.”

“When you did that,” Pippin murmured, still tugging at Merry’s thin shirt, “did she like it?”

Merry frowned; this seemed like an odd line of questioning, and between the questions and Pippin clutching at him and Pippin’s leg draped over his, he was finding the situation increasingly awkward.

“Well, she seemed to like it. She said it felt good.”

“Oh,” Pippin said, nuzzling his shoulder.

“Aren’t you sleepy, Pip?” Merry asked hopefully.

“No. Merry?”

“Yes?”

“Have you ever heard of a lad that liked those things?”

“You heard them talking tonight. Lots of lads like…”

“No, Merry. I mean lads that liked _doing_ those things. Not having them done. You know. With… someone else. Like, another lad.”

Merry’s heart jumped, and his cock where it rested, increasingly obvious in its response to the discussion, but Pippin seemed to be ignoring it, which was unusual; Pippin usually teased him mercilessly when he noticed such a thing.

“Well, I… some lads… I don’t know…”

“You must have heard something, Merry,” Pippin almost pleaded.

“Well… damn it, Pippin… yes, there are lads who like to do those things to lads as well as lasses. Or some who only like to do them with other lads. Probably more of them than you think… it’s something folks know about… that it happens… but they don’t talk about it… it’s quite frowned upon.”

“But they do it,” Pippin whispered. “And keep it a secret.”

“That’s right.”

“Oh.”

Pippin went very quiet for a long minute, and Merry was both hopeful that the conversation was over and slightly disappointed that Pippin hadn’t said anything else about it.

“Merry?”

“Yes, Pip?”

Pippin seemed to be glued to him all along the length of his body; he usually only did that when he was cold and trying to make Merry warm him up or when he was trying to persuade Merry into some nonsense.

“Those lads. Who do that. To each other. You know… do they ever… kiss each other?”

“I’m sure they do, Pip. If lads got into trouble for kissing other lads, they’d have thrown you in jail for all the kisses you’re always laying on me.”

“I mean _real_ kisses, Merry.”

“I’m sure they do, Pippin.”

Again, Pippin was silent, leaving Merry puzzled and uncomfortably aroused. Who could blame him, though? What else was his body supposed to do, with Pippin’s soft, slender body pressed to him, Pippin’s leg against his, and…

Good gods; Pippin’s cock was just as hard as Merry’s. His breath caught in his throat as Pippin cautiously but deliberately pressed himself against Merry’s hip.

“Merry?”

“Yes?”

“Would you let me kiss you?”

Merry opened his mouth, but no sound came out. Pippin propped himself up on his elbow and in a moment that soft little mouth, with those clever lips that had whispered so many secrets in Merry’s ear and placed so many kisses on his cheek, had met his own. Merry inhaled sharply, stunned; there was nothing chaste about the way Pippin’s lips pressed against his own, squeezed his lower lip between them, making him moan.

Then Pippin drew back, green eyes wide and bright.

“Merry? Why don’t you want me to kiss you?”

“I…”

His mind raced. Because you’re a lad. Because you’re my cousin. Because you’re my Pippin… but all of those reasons rapidly became irrelevant as Pippin’s slender fingers found his face and turned it to kiss him again, and this time Merry _had_ to kiss him back, because that clever mouth was pressed to his, tugging at his lips, soft as a lass’s, but sweet and tasting of apples and pipesmoke and Pippin, a taste that melted every thought from Merry’s head. Pippin’s tongue, hesitant but demanding, flicked against his mouth, and he yielded with a soft moan. Immediately Pippin was pressing forward, turning his head to deepen the kiss, sucking hard at Merry’s lower lip.

Pippin suddenly pulled back, and Merry realized that his hands had made their way to the small of Pippin’s back, that he was now holding Pippin against him, pressed together face to face, both breathing hard, both wide-eyed.

“Pippin… you don’t mean this… don’t you want a lass to…”

Pippin shook his head sharply, his curls falling over his flushed forehead. “No. I don’t want a lass. I don’t want anybody but you, Merry. I’ve never wanted anybody but you.”

“Oh, but Pip…” he tried again.

“Merry,” Pippin pleaded, pressing himself against Merry until it felt like their skin might melt together. “Please. When I think about someone’s hands on me, it’s always you. When I… touch myself, I’m always thinking about you.”

Merry didn’t want to admit, even to himself, the number of times he’d worked himself to a release in the darkness of his bedroom, trying to think of lasses and lovely breasts but instead unable to chase away the image of Pippin’s sharp-cheeked face and wide green eyes and soft pouting mouth.

“We can’t…”

“Nobody has to know, Merry. Do they? Haven’t we always been like this? Or almost like this? Nobody has to know except us.”

Merry closed his eyes. He had imagined what Pippin’s body might feel like under his hands; he knew the lines of ribs and slender waist and sharp hipbones from memory. But he’d never imagined, never allowed himself to imagine, the feeling of Pippin’s hard length stroking against his own, feeling each others’ pulses through this intimate contact. Merry could not help but thrust against him, and Pippin moaned softly and clutched at his shoulders. Their mouths came together again, hungry and eager, and then Pippin’s increasingly bold tongue was licking down Merry’s jaw, lips pressing to the soft skin of his neck, nipping, then biting lightly, until Merry gasped and bucked against him.

“Is it good, Merry?” Pippin whispered, and the earnest green eyes staring into his own make his breath catch in his throat.

“Gods, Pippin, you’re lovely,” he murmured.

That was the end of it, then; there were no more questions asked, but Pippin’s eager hands stroking all over him, through his curly hair, down his neck, running tracks of fire down his spine while his hot mouth and tongue found places on Merry’s neck that made him tremble so hard he would have fallen down if he’d been standing. But something wasn’t right, he realized dimly.

He grasped Pippin’s shoulders and rolled them both until he had Pippin pinned underneath him, staring up, squirming against Merry’s weight. Merry had to take a moment to stroke Pippin’s untidy hair, run his fingers over the flushed cheeks. Pippin twisted and caught Merry’s fingers in his mouth, sucking on them hard and licking at them.

“Oh, Pip…” he gasped.

Pippin released his hand, concerned. “Is something wrong?”

“No, little one. Oh, Pippin.”

“Show me what to do, Merry. I want to do all those things to you. The things I asked you about. Please… show me.”

Merry finally realized what was wrong; thin as they were, their underclothes were distinctly restrictive. Apparently Pippin had come to the same conclusion, because he was attempting to tug Merry’s shirt over his head. In a few moments of quick fumbling the underclothes were gone, and when Merry rolled them again, it was all bare skin against skin, heated and instantly electric. Pippin gasped and squirmed, and for a moment Merry wasn’t sure what he was up to, until Pippin shifted his hips and aligned them so that their hard, eager lengths slid against each other. Merry closed his eyes, breathing hard, and tangled his hands in Pippin’s hair. Pippin arched up and raised his head to kiss Merry again, demanding and eager, then giving him a sharp nip when Merry didn’t kiss him back with enough enthusiasm. Merry laughed breathlessly.

“You’ve never had any patience, Pip.”

“Patience?” Pippin repeated, biting Merry’s shoulder. “What for? I’m here, you’re here, we’re…”

Merry pressed him down gently, looking down at the green eyes that stared up at him with confusion.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong, Pip. But… easy.”

“Why?” Pippin whined.

Merry shook his head and kissed his cheek. “Pippin, is this the first time you’ve ever been with anybody?”

Pippin cocked his head curiously. “Of course it is.”

A powerful sense of responsibility and protectiveness muffled the demanding voice of his desire.

“Then it ought to be done right, little one,” he said, rubbing his nose against Pippin’s cheek and silently praying to any deities he could think of.

“What do you mean, done right?” Pippin asked.

“Well, I’m going to try to show you.”

[](http://pics.livejournal.com/rubyelf/pic/001ah79k/)

  
  


  
  
[**ON TO PART 2**](http://rubyelf.livejournal.com/133839.html#cutid1)

  



	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pippin has started asking some very odd questions. Merry attempts to answer them. 

TITLE: PIPPIN ASKS TOO MANY QUESTIONS (PART 2 of 2)

AUTHOR: [](http://rubyelf.livejournal.com/profile)[**rubyelf**](http://rubyelf.livejournal.com/)  


CHARACTERS: Merry/Pippin

RATING: NC-17 

WARNINGS: pre-ruby-verse, hobbit smut

SUMMARY: Pippin has started asking some very odd questions. Merry attempts to answer them. 

DISCLAIMER: Characters do not belong to me. They are just here to play

[(part 1)](http://rubyelf.livejournal.com/133205.html#cutid1)

Got to spend most of the day at work doing grad school assignments (hey, I work in mental health and I'm studying mental health, so it's legit, right?), and that means I do not have to spend the whole weekend doing it. So here is the rest it. Thank you so much to everybody that told me they liked the first part and encouraged me to write the rest of it. 

 

 

**PIPPIN ASKS TOO MANY QUESTIONS (PART 2 of 2)**

 

Pippin giggled at Merry’s seriousness. “I didn’t know it could be done wrong.”

“Of course it can be done wrong,” Merry said. “Any lass will tell you about some idiot who groped her the wrong way or poked her or hurt her or just did something stupid…”

Pippin’s green eyes widened. “Merry, did _you_ ever do it wrong?”

“Well, of course. Everybody has to learn.”

“You know, though,” Pippin said. “The lasses all talk about how much they like to have you in their beds.”

Merry saw the expression on Pippin’s face change and felt a stab of guilt, knowing he’d been off bedding any lass that caught his eye while Pippin had eyes only for him.

“I didn’t know… about this, Pip.”

“But you’d rather…”

Merry shook his head, feeling Pippin’s body warm and bare beneath him, his heart pounding in his chest.

“Right now, I’d rather have you right here than every lass I’ve ever had. Or even thought about having. None of them are as lovely as you, Pip.”

Pippin beamed and raised his head to kiss Merry eagerly, and Merry could feel him smile as he bit and tugged at Merry’s lip.

“Do you mean that?” he murmured, against Merry’s mouth.

“Lord, yes, I mean it,” Merry breathed, sitting up to look at him. He was quite certain that at this exact moment it was not possible for anything to be lovelier to look at than Pippin stretched out on the clean white sheets, the steady flames from the lamps and the darting bursts of light from the hearth casting patterns of golden warmth across his bare chest and flushed cheeks and just slightly rounded belly and smooth thighs, leaving streaks of shadow in the hollows his collarbones, in patterns of his hair across his forehead, in the concavity of his hipbones, under his arms as they were stretched out above his head, hands wide open on the pillow, fingers twitching impatiently. The lamp-light turned green eyes to gold, turned russet hair to streaks of burnished bronze, turned pale skin luminous.

“Stop staring at me like that,” Pippin said, cheeks reddening.

“I don’t think I can.”

Pippin smiled shyly. “Do… do you like looking at me?”

Merry chuckled and glanced down at the clear and obvious evidence of just how much he liked looking at him.

“Where do you think _that_ came from?”

“Oooh,” Pippin murmured. “I’ve never… looked at you. I mean, we’ve been naked together a million and one times, but I’ve never seen you… like that.”

“Well, it’s all your fault.”

Abruptly, Pippin pushed himself up on his elbows and then reached out with one curious hand, the same way he was always reaching for anything that caught his eye, and Merry remembered how many times that hand had been slapped when Pippin was a child, forever being scolded for his impulsive tendency to grab hold of anything that interested him. Now that hand was running exploratory fingers up the length of Merry’s cock, and Merry certainly wasn’t going to slap his hand or scold him; those quick, slender fingers felt like fire and the softness of the touch was a torment.

Pippin smiled. “I like the way you look when I do that.”

Merry reached down and stilled Pippin’s hand. Pippin scowled. “What?”

“Just…”

Pippin swatted his hand away and continued his exploration, this time with a firmer touch, seemingly determined to examine every inch of Merry, while Merry squirmed and bit his lip and tried very hard to hold still and not thrust into Pippin’s very warm and curious hand. When he finally forced his eyes open, Pippin was grinning up at him mischievously.

“What?”

“Mine is longer,” he said, with a smirk.

Merry laughed and grasped one of Pippin’s wrists in each hand, pinning them at his shoulders as he pressed back down on top of him. Pippin eagerly arched up, rubbing his cock against Merry’s, demanding more contact. Merry kept a tight hold on his wrists, pinned his wriggling hips with his greater weight, and laid still for a moment, watching Pippin’s face.

“What do you want me to do, Pippin?”

“Everything,” he said, without hesitation.

“Peregrin Took, you don’t even know what ‘everything’ is.”

“I don’t care,” he said. “Everything.”

“Pippin, I don’t even know what ‘everything’ is. I mean, I’ve never… not with a lad…”

Pippin gave him such a pleading expression that Merry relented and shifted forward to kiss his jaw and lick at his neck.

“All right, little one.”

He released Pippin’s wrists and slid down, tasting the pale golden-lit skin of his chest, licking at the shadows in the hollows of his collarbones. He found two small nipples, nothing like the bigger, rounder ones he was used to, but when he experimentally nipped at one, Pippin jerked up and cried out and shivered just as nicely as any lass ever had. His hands on the soft skin of Pippin’s belly, his mouth followed the barely-there trail of burnished gold hair that led downward, to coppery russet curls. He had woken up so many mornings with his bed and his nose full of the smell of Pippin, but now that smell, traces of wood-fire smoke and a hint of the sweetness of the apples that Pippin forever had in his pockets, but mostly just the smell of Pippin, scattered his wits more than the hardest liquor he’d ever swallowed on a dare. Pippin was breathing hard, and one of his hands had drifted down to stroke at Merry’s hair.

“Merry… please, do… something… please…”

Pippin’s length was smooth and hot against his cheek, and he raised a hand to stroke at it, but much at that made Pippin moan and buck into his hand, there were other things… other things Pippin had asked him about, things he’d been thinking ever since about doing to Pippin. He raised his head and studied Pippin’s cock for a moment, the one part of his cousin he did not already intimately know, and then, having looked at it, found it absolutely necessary to taste it. The first touch of his tongue had Pippin gasping, and when he slid his lips over the head, wondering at the smoothness and the taste and the weight of it on his tongue, wondering what it would feel like for Pippin to do this to him, Pippin wailed and grasped at the quilt desperately.

“Merry… Merry… I can’t…”

He freed his mouth just long enough to mutter, “Shh, Pip. Hush,” and then went back to what he was doing. Pippin’s fingers tangled in his hair as his hips began to rise and fall in rhythm with Merry’s stroking hand. Suddenly, he grabbed handfuls of hair and pulled quite hard, shouting a warning, and Merry raised his head but tightened the grip of his hand and looked up to watch the way Pippin’s skin flushed and his back arched and his whole body shuddered in release.

When Pippin had slumped to the bed, sprawled and stunned, Merry shoved the quilt to the floor and climbed up to lay next to Pippin, running his fingers through his hair and brushing it back from sweaty forehead.

“Hello, Pip.”

Pippin looked over at him and smiled dazedly. “Hello, Merry. I’m sorry I…”

“Love, that’s what’s _supposed_ to happen.”

“Oh… I don’t think anything’s ever felt like that…”

He turned and nestled himself against Merry, his face pressed into the hollow of Merry’s throat, burrowing in and wrapping his arms around Merry’s shoulders. Merry petted him gently and found he was trembling slightly.

“Pip, are you all right? Is something wrong?”

“Oh, no! Nothing’s wrong, Merry. Just… “

“A bit overwhelmed, little one?”

Pippin nodded. Merry stroked his hair and tried to ignore the fact that he was still painfully hard and Pippin was all warm and soft and naked, and to make things worse, now he didn’t just smell like Pippin; now he smelled like Pippin and sweat and sex, and that was beyond unfair.

After a few minutes, Pippin drew back and looked up at Merry with a knowing smirk. “What’s that prodding me in my belly, Meriadoc?”

“Good lord, Pip, it’s not a cucumber.”

Pippin reached down and stroked him lightly, but Merry moaned and pulled away. “I can’t… oh. That’s just torture.”

Pippin’s green eyes darkened slightly, and Merry could see him thinking.

“Merry?”

Twenty questions again? Merry wasn’t sure he could stand it. “Yes, Pip.”

“There was another thing I asked you about.”

Merry frowned. “What do you mean?”

“Besides… someone using their mouth.”

“Oh… oh!” Merry exclaimed, realizing what Pippin was talking about. “Oh, no, little one. That’s… I don’t know… I could hurt you… you’re not ready for that, Pip; it’s your first time with anybody and it’s not… it’s too much…”

“If I didn’t know better,” Pippin said, kissing Merry firmly to stop his rambling, “I’d say you were afraid.”

“I’m afraid to hurt you! Or… to make it terrible for you… I can’t do that to you. That’s not… it’s not just like playing and kissing and… you know what you’re asking me to do, right?”

Pippin nodded. “You said you’d done it that way before, with a lass.”

“Well, yes, once. And heard the lads talk about it… some of them seem to think it’s fun just for the variety, and some of them… but Pippin…”

“But Merry…” he whined, mocking his cousin’s anxious tone.

“Pip, I don’t want to hurt you.”

“If it’s not good, we can stop.”

“But…”

Pippin frowned. “You don’t want to do that with me?”

“I’ve never wanted to do anything with anyone more in my entire life,” Merry blurted out.

“Then, please,” Pippin said.

Merry sat up, shaking his head. “You really want this? All right… I need to find something slippery. Like oil or something like that.”

Pippin cocked his head. “What for?”

“So I don’t hurt you! Now… what…”

Pippin glanced toward the door. “The bathroom across the hall’s got all sorts of bottles of things in it. I’m sure there’s some sort of oil for baths or something like that.”

Merry scrambled to his feet. “Don’t go anywhere.”

Pippin giggled.

Merry came darting back into the room, quilt wrapped around his waist and a small blue bottle of some sort of oil that smelled of lavender. Pippin grinned.

“There you are! Now what?”

Merry had to think a bit about the “now what” part. Obviously there was the slicking up his cock with oil, to make sure it was nice and slippery, and obviously there was slicking some oil over the appropriate parts of Pippin for the same reason, but then there was the question of how to properly go about the business itself. Being on top of a lass seemed to work just fine but it wasn’t quite putting things in the right places at the moment, and Merry had heard some of the dirty jokes but he was appalled at the idea of having Pippin on his hands and knees where Merry couldn’t touch him or kiss him or anything of that sort. Pippin squirmed impatiently as Merry rolled him in a few different directions, frowning.

“Merry, is it really that complicated? You’ve managed it with lasses in the back of a wagon and on top of a kitchen sink… it can’t be that difficult!”

“I don’t know who told you about the kitchen sink,” Merry said sharply, “but I’m trying to find a good way to… hmm.”

An idea struck him, a memory of Pippin after a bad dream, only half-awake and confused and trembling, and Merry absently reaching over and pulling him close, holding him against his chest until Pippin had dozed back off and left Merry wide awake and highly distracted by the feeling of Pippin’s ass pressed against him in a way that eventually required him to get up and go off to the bathroom and relieve himself of the unbearable torment of having his hard cock being pressed against a sleeping Pippin’s buttocks.

“Come here, little one,” he said, shifting Pippin onto his side and pulling him close, Pippin’s back against his chest, his arm wrapped around his young cousin’s waist. Pippin sighed and nestled back against him, and this time his ass against Merry’s desperately hard cock was entirely deliberate and shifting in an extremely distracting way. Merry pressed his lips to Pippin’s neck, whispered in his ear.

“Are you sure you want…”

“Yes,” Pippin said, suddenly quite still, but relaxed and at ease in Merry’s arms.

“This might hurt a bit. But only for a minute, I think…”

Pippin shifted against him again. “Please, Merry. I want it… I want you. I want to feel you… like this.”

Merry held Pippin close against him with one hand and attempted to guide things to their proper location with the other. They had been quite generous with the oil and for a moment there was rather a lot of slipping around and not managing much, but then he was pressing in, the tightness yielding just slightly. Pippin gasped and tensed against him.

“Am I hurting you?”

“No… just feels… odd. Keep going… please.”

Merry closed his eyes; it was taking just about every bit of concentration he had to keep himself steady and keep his motions slow when what he really wanted to do was bury himself in the warm body in his arms and thrust into it desperately. His hand on Pippin’s chest registered the shifts in his muscles; tightening for a moment when the pressure was too much, relaxing again with a soft exhale when it eased, and then Pippin was pressing back, demanding, his hand reaching around to grasp at Merry’s hip, pulling at it.

“Please, Merry, it’s all right… more, please…”

Merry took hold of Pippin’s hip and pulled him back, and their bodies met. Pippin breathed hard.

“Is that…”

“Shh… yes, that’s all. Are you all right?”

A breathless nod, and a slow easing of the tension again. And then his hand reached, fumbling, to clasp Merry’s and hold it tightly, and the soft words.

“Move, Merry… please.”

There wasn’t much thinking to be done from that point on, only feeling; and while the blissful tightness of Pippin around his cock was one thing, there was also Pippin’s body held tight against him, Pippin’s curly hair against his cheek, Pippin’s hand clutching at his, squeezing in rhythm with his thrusts, the salt of sweat where his lips pressed to Pippin’s neck. The thought did enter his head that while he’d had a number of lasses in bed with him and they’d said many different things, none of them had ever simply repeated his name over and over, starting at a breathless whisper and gradually rising to a sharp exclamation and then a long, low moan as Merry’s free hand closed around him and he thrust into it, shaking.

I think I did a decent job of it, Merry thought dizzily, in the moment before he allowed himself to stop worrying about Pippin and start surrendering himself to the wave that rolled through him.

He came back to himself with Pippin still snuggled tightly against him, still rocked with occasional small shivers and still holding Merry’s hand tightly.

“Pippin… are you all right?”

“Of course I’m all right,” he said, and Merry could hear him smiling.

“Did I hurt you?”

“Merry, stop fussing. If you couldn’t tell I liked that, you’re stupider than a biscuit.”

Merry had to chuckle, his nose in Pippin’s hair. “You did like it?”

“Oh, Lord and Lady, Meriadoc! Do you worry this much with lasses?”

“No,” Merry said.

“Why not?” Pippin asked, turning his head so he could look at Merry and receiving a kiss on the cheek for his efforts.

“Well, because none of them are you, Pip.”

“What difference does that make?”

“Because… I only love you.”

“Just me, and nobody else?” Pippin asked hopefully.

“Just you, and nobody else,” Merry agreed.

“Does that mean you’re not going to run around with lasses anymore?”

Merry shook his head. “I don’t think I could even kiss one of them without thinking about you. Not after tonight.”

Pippin frowned. “Merry?”

“Yes?”

“I don’t think we’re going to be able to keep this a secret. Not forever.”

“No,” Merry said. “Probably not forever.”

“But that’s the thing,” Pippin said quietly. “I plan to love you forever.”

Merry chuckled and squeezed his hand. “That sounds like a very good plan, Pip. And even if we can’t keep it a secret forever…”

“I don’t care,” Pippin said, setting his jaw stubbornly. “They can’t make me stop loving you.”

“I’m not going to stop loving you, either, Pip. Now hush… if we don’t get at least a little bit of sleep, Bilbo and Frodo are going to torment us all day.”

“But I wanted to ask you…”

“No more questions tonight, Pip. Any more of them might kill me. Go to sleep.”

Pippin smiled. “Goodnight, Merry.”

“Goodnight, Pip.”

“Merry?”

“What?” he asked, slightly impatient.

“I love you.”

               “Oh. I love you too, you oddity. Now, go to sleep."

 

 

[](http://pics.livejournal.com/rubyelf/pic/000s8wwq/)

 

 

 

  


  



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